ARGH! WHERE ARE MY LIMBS? and Other stories
by richard the pedantic
Summary: A smattering of hopefully humorous short stories which occassionally relate to the Matrix. Story 11: The cautionary tale of the Merovingian. I know i said i'd finished but i changed my mind.
1. Morpheus and the Weasel

Greetings to whoever is here. Which is you I guess. What follows is a collection of crap from the most decrepit corner of my cranium. Enjoy.  
  
Flame if you wish but beware for it may result in the loss of teeth.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the Matrix, but I will, I just need to get two hacksaws and an Uzi.  
  
ARGH! WHERE ARE MY LIMBS?! + Other stories.  
  
By Richard the pedantic.  
  
Chapter 1: Morpheus and the Weasel.  
  
In the beginning, there was man, and a large collection of rodents. Whereas many of these rodents perished when the sun vanished behind a thick layer of smog, (or in some cases they were all devoured by a new species of unreasonably large spider.)  
  
Anyway, the weasels had more sense and moved themselves to the sewers, which were much warmer. After the war, the machines were happy enough for them to stay there seeing as experiments with weasel body heat as a power source resulted in Deux ex machina going insane and trying to sing. He sounded more like a moose trying to gargle. The noise was the real reason why so many humans wouldn't accept the first Matrix, their primitive cerebrums had to wake up to escape the noise.  
  
But I digress, the Weasels lived happily enough for many a generation, feasting off of the fossilised excrement and giving sentinels advise about how to avoid frostbite.   
  
There was one however that was not satisfied with the simple life, and he thought for some bizarre reason that eating centuries old crap was unhealthy. This weasel was given the name of Gymnosperm, which to those who don't know means 'plants of the class Gymnospermae having seeds not enclosed in an ovary.' (I don't own the FF. net dictionary either.)  
  
Before he left, Gymnosperm was given a small but satisfying 'going to the foul place' party by his friends, relatives and someone called Tim who had once helped him fix a flat tire. At this party, he was given a generous supply of Vodka which he could use as currency wherever he ended up, a slightly sharpened stick with which to fend off assorted creatures, and a plunger for the, uh, obstacles he would face on his journey through the pipes.  
  
This weasel left the safety of the sewers and ventured out into the dark, unexplored pipe that had been left alone for centuries due to the unspeakable smells that lurked there. Grasping his nose with one paw, the brave, (although misguided) beast scurried down the pipe.  
  
Unfortunately for him however, the odours prevailed; Gymnosperm passed out after the first fifty meters and slid the rest of the way down the slippery pipe.  
  
The next morning, Gymnosperm shot out of the pipe at an unholy speed and woke up to find himself flying through the air in a perfectly straight line that the laws of physics should have prevented.  
  
Whereas he had somehow avoided death via a long fall, he could not avoid smashing through the front window of the Nebuchadnezzar and landing in the Co-pilot's seat.  
  
Gymnosperm pushed himself to his hind legs and stood to his full height of seven centimetres. After checking himself for injuries, he looked around himself to find a gawking Morpheus peering at him with surprised eyes.  
  
"Link's been spiking the water again," he said after a few minutes, "when I find where he's been stashing that LSD he'll have hell to pay."  
  
And so, Morpheus ignored the newcomer, the large hole in the window, and the shards of glass that were embedded in his legs until the resulting blood loss forced him to pass out.  
  
'Sigh' Sighed Gymnosperm as he realised he would have to provide third hand medical assistance.  
  
Or so he thought, Morpheus was soon dragged to the medical chamber by a lighting technician who happened to be in a strangely good mood.  
  
This resulted in a slight problem however, this was that there was no one flying the Neb. Gymnosperm tried to reach the controls but his arms were, rather unsurprisingly, too small.  
  
And so, believing that a fiery death was imminent, Gymnosperm did the only thing he could do, break out the Vodka and drink until he passed out.  
  
If he'd waited a few more seconds he might have survived, for you see, Neo hurriedly charged to the co-pilot's seat. (He had deemed him too irresponsible to sit in the pilot's seat after he'd once turned the ship upside down whilst Morpheus was urinating. The smell lingered throughout the ship for months.) Anyway, Neo didn't notice Gymnosperm's presence and sat on him, thereby crushing his skull, spine and pelvis.  
  
Needless to say, Gymnosperm didn't survive.  
  
The moral of the story is that Weasels shouldn't be so pessimistic.  
  
The next one should be longer, I hope you have enjoyed thus far. If you didn't, I can't really blame you. 


	2. After the war, things just got weird

Thanks to all reviewers, replies are at the end of the chapter.  
  
P.S. Sorry to whoever if I accidentally rip off your idea. Somehow however i don't think what's below has been done before.  
  
Chapter 2: After the war, things just got weird  
  
After Neo and Trinity made the ultimate sacrifice to save the dishevelled Zion and its people from destruction. The machines buggered off without even offering to help sweep away the bodies.  
  
And so, life went on. Neo and Trinity's bodies were flung through the large hole in the dock's ceiling and their shattered remains were given a simple but dignified funeral. The proverbial silver lining here was that, per his on request, the kid was buried alive several meters about Neo's coffin. No one knew his reasons for doing this and no one wanted to ask.   
  
Relations between the viruses, (humans sorry, humans,) and the machines improved somewhat to the extent where the two species settled their remaining dislike for each other in the yearly two man/machine tandem bicycle race. Everyone turned up for this event, even the democratic order of sewer based weasels.  
  
The course was basically a slippery metal track that spanned from the festering ruins of Blackpool to a seemingly random location which lay three meters above the pacific ocean.   
  
The contestants for this race would compete against each other on the track and the ones who could avoid falling into the sea, (which was a chilly .0000002 degrees Celsius, cold indeed but warm enough to guard against ice, it would in this story anyway), would then have to partake in a crude re-enactment of the battle of Hastings. The most convincing actors from both sides would then have the honour of competing in the race.  
  
The third race of its kind was held between the humanoid machines, B5HT23, (otherwise known as Jim,) and 77771727336282888HYTWH, (otherwise known as Kendra the fourteenth), and the human contestants, Niobe, (who did a fine re-enactment of King Harold getting shot in the eye after she was shot in the eye,) and Link, (there's nothing especially special to say about him but everyone else got their own set of brackets so I guess its only fair.)  
  
The opening ceremony was long and tedious affair which involved the various teams discussing the finer points of their bikes. Whereas the machines bike was shiny, new and interesting, the human's bike was pulled together from the remains of dead sentinels. The wheels were therefore not anything even vaguely resembling perfect circles, the seats were jagged and uncomfortable, and the pedals were as slippery as the track.  
  
To keep themselves amused during the display, the weasels began reflecting light from one of the strobe lights into Ghost's eyes. When he turned to look at them with a contemptuous glare they would hide their shiny metal discs and start whistling innocently.  
  
The crowd breathed a unanimous sigh of relief when the race began, unfortunately, the egad who designed the course only put the spectators seats near the starting point, and there were no cameras, monitors, or even an announcer to inform the audience of the race based happenings.  
  
The machine's bike sped hastily away while the jagged tires of Niobe and Link's bike moved awkwardly on the track at an agonisingly slow pace.  
  
At first it seemed like an easy victory for the machines, but the odds were evened somewhat when a convenient tidal wave sent Jim and Kendra flying backwards over a distance of roughly fifty meters. Thereby allowing Link and Niobe to catch up.  
  
Things were pretty much neck and neck for a long while, until the author realised that the machines superior body weight would slow them down somewhat, thereby giving Link and Niobe the lead.  
  
"Charge!" Screamed Link randomly in the final kilometre. Niobe turned her head to inquire what he was talking about when she realised that he wasn't actually pedalling. A well placed slap to the head soon corrected this problem however.  
  
The machines soon realised that they'd have to something dramatic and amusing if they were to have any chance of victory. Unfortunately for them however, nothing came to mind, and victory went to the humans for the second time in a row. (The first race was called off due to a hurricane and by the time they'd rebuilt the track it was time for the second one anyway.)  
  
The End.  
  
Tune in whenever I upload it for the next story.  
  
Right, now for replies.  
  
Tai Wilson: Glad you liked it. Written has been and written was when written will create an incomprehensible reply with is nothing but gibberish. (Sorry but that's all i can think of to say).  
  
Angel-of-lightness/Naz/One day I'll think of something else to include: Maybe i shouldn't have killed Gymnosperm, he could have gone on to achieve great things. Can you imagine him in an APU? Thanks for reviewing by the way. My life goal shall not e complete here until i upload all eleven stories. Now that you have re-entered the world, did you find that everything changed to the point where it was unrecognisable and disturbing?  
  
Agent Josie: This is a rhetorical and largely pointless question but i'll ask it anyway. You're not a Morpheus fan are you? Link didn't die either now that i think about it, neither did Niobe, Roland, or the kid. THe kid should have died. No one liked him. Gollum should have stabbed him in the neck with a sharpened stick. Thanks for reviewing this and Left Behind.  
  
Alocin: You may be surprised to hear that i actually wrte your review last. I only told you that because i couldn't think of what else to say apart from the conventional 'thanks for reviewing'. Gymnosperm, (i have just decided), shall return in some form or another before this collection of madness is over. Thanks for reviewing.  
  
Lupe-3.14: Urburd is i and my writing, glad you enjoyed and hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
  
thereisnobrain: There's nothing to stop you killing Trinity 20 times in you fic. Thanks for reviewing. 


	3. See what happens when Locke makes deciss...

Right, thanks once more to all reviewers; replies are at the end of the chapter.  
  
Chapter 3: See what happens when Locke makes decisions?  
  
A terrible plague descended upon the people of Zion after the end of the war, namely boredom. Before, the people lived in constant fear of being torn limb from limb by surprisingly small, squid shaped mechanical beasts. Now that they had nothing to worry about, they began to see Zion for the dull and lifeless place that it truly was.  
  
The task of correcting this problem was appointed to Commander Locke, now granted, he may be a competent military strategist creature, but when it comes to catering for the recreational needs of roughly 250,000 people, he's um, not; as the following story will show.  
  
(Actually, now that I think about it, the machines broke through his defences so maybe he's not that good at either. Oh well, I guess I shouldn't judge, I couldn't do any better.)  
  
Um yes, well anyway, Locke responded to this problem by converting the dock into a huge maze. The biggest of which the earth had ever seen. Its size however led to its eventual doom. For you see, (long dramatic pause), I'm not going to tell you, well I am, just not here.  
  
The maze, like the yearly tandem bike race, had an unspeakably huge and largely pointless opening ceremony. The only mildly interesting things about it were the fact that Morpheus came dressed in a top hat. Also, Councillor Hamann got food poisoning and started farting continuously. The result was mass hysteria which led to people running in all directions.  
  
Zee was the first to enter the maze, armed with only a makeshift compass and a handful of paper clips; she set off in a south easterly direction.  
  
Morpheus was the next to enter. He had fashioned together a crude periscope from three table legs and a toothbrush. It didn't so much work as it did look foolish and occasionally show him a crude reflection of the ceiling, which he soon discovered was no help.  
  
Ghost and Sparks decided to pool the resources of their brains in order to reach the end of the maze first. At least that was the idealistic daydream. They spent thirty minutes bickering at the entrance about who got to go in first. The argument was eventually settled by Locke himself who pushed Sparks into the maze with a grunt of irritation. Ghost spent a few moments staring at him before entering the maze himself. Locke entered a few minutes later so as not to risk bumping into the two.  
  
Everyone else realised that they had better things to do with their time and went far, far away.  
  
Morpheus traversed the seemingly endless collection of corridors for hours before he finally admitted to himself that he was lost. He smashed the periscope against one of the maze's walls in frustration only to be knocked out by a flying table leg.  
  
Zee had slightly better luck, in other words she remained conscious. She decided to go north, as her compass needle insisted in pointing in that direction, thereby leading Zee to believe that it knew the secrets of the maze. This only resulted in her walking into a wall. The compass needle still pointed north however.  
  
Zee responded to this by climbing over every wall she saw, this soon led her to a point which was 43 meters from the maze's entrance. This did not matter however as Zee mistakenly believed that she had reached the end of the maze. With a sense of triumph firmly embedded in the back of her neck, she went home.  
  
Ghost and Sparks had begun tearing strands of hair out and leaving them on the floor so as to remind themselves where they'd been. This was a foolish plan as you can probably imagine seeing as the hair strands were too thin to stand out against the floor. Also the lighting was somewhat poor in the dock seeing as the Warner brother's prop department had reclaimed most of their props. Thereby making the hairs equally hard to see.  
  
In the end they did indeed stumble across the exit. They then spent a further thirty minutes bickering about who got to leave first. The situation this time was resolved by Ghost's right fist.  
  
Locke had, at first, strolled into the maze with confidence. He had after all designed the thing and believed he knew where the exit was. He did not consider however what would happen if he trusted builders who were obsessed with symmetry to follow his asymmetrical design. When he realised what had happened, he swore vengeance.   
  
And vengeance he did have. The construction workers were made to stand in the centre of the temple and made to fart into kazoos before everyone who could be bothered to turn up for the event. The sights, sounds and smells invaded many a persons dream for weeks.  
  
The next day, the maze was torn down and no one spoke of it again. Locke was also given a clip round the ear by the woman whose son was on the Gnosis.  
  
The End of the chapter is hither. The next chapter shall arrive before too long with any luck.  
  
Right, now for replies.  
  
Tai Wilson: A headache eh? That reminds me, I have to read the rest of Crossfire. I'll do that later. Thanks for reviewing. How goes your writer's block?  
  
Chinchilla-in-a-bowl: What about that machine/rat in the Animatrix? There is many a beast in the world of the Matrix, well one, sort of. Oh well who cares? Thanks for reviewing. Today I confused a rabbit for a chinchilla. In my defence however, it was wearing a pope costume which obscured its ears.  
  
Agent Josie: O.K, remind me not to mention anything even remotely related to French, France or anything beginning with F for at least a month. (That last sentence doesn't count.) Oh well, if you find an APU I'll be very surprised. They are safely contained in the impenetrable fortress of Cannabis users. Which may or may not be in Utah. You have to have a last name beginning with H to even avoid getting shot at the gates. Anyway, thanks for reviewing.  
  
Kitsune-Chan 8: I would make them longer but it may rob the chapters of their humorousness, well that and I run out of ideas. *Sigh*, thanks for reviewing.  
  
Alocin: Fear not, Neo's coffin would be made out of metal seeing as all the wood is gone in the real world. The kid's decomposing pieces would not get through. Thanks for reviewing.  
  
Nithke: Needy or not, the kid must die. How I hate him. Sorry, I'm drifting from the subject. Hope you liked this chapter and thanks for reviewing.  
  
thereisnobrain: You didn't cry did you? I would say that I thought not but I can't/couldn't hear you. Update soon yourself with more randomness.  
  
Right, I think that's everyone. 


	4. THE ARCHITECT'S DRUNK! RUN FOR YOUR LIVE...

O.K, so I'm not hearing a lot of support for the farting Kazoo guys, oh well, can't have everything. Thanks to all who reviewed for reviewing. Replies are at the end of the chapter.  
  
Chapter 4: THE ARCHITECT'S DRUNK! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!  
  
The Architect, being the somewhat pompous git that he is, frequently found himself pissing about with the Matrix so as to make it as perfect as was possible. The result of this usually involved people who littered callously getting their heads removed and replaced with the heads of seagulls. Such people later went on to help improve the tourism industry of Staiths.  
  
Anyway, during one new years party, the Architect got unspeakably pissed, vomited in Agent Johnson's lunchbox, urinated on a tray full of Yorkshire puddings and did a surprisingly good re-enactment of the subway scene from the first film. Seraph had to play the part of Smith seeing as the real Smith was, at the time, giving an inspirational speech at the headquarters of the European Communists society.   
  
A few hours later, the Architect stumbled back into his home, (if you can call a round room with thousands of TVs in it a home,) and clumsily sat down. Unfortunately, he missed the chair by three meters and fell flat on his back. He spent the next few minutes laying on the floor and grinning inanely.  
  
Then it began.  
  
The infamous, Matrix editing remote came in to view, the Architect, realising once again that he had nothing better to do, stumbled over to the contraption and started pressing random buttons with his nose.  
  
The first to suffer because of this was the democratic order of Matrix based weasels. These digital beasts were set upon by a series of demonic, carnivorous, formerly electric whisks that had recently become solar powered.  
  
Many a weasel ran for their lives, some however, who cared about loosing their supply of nuts, raisins and gooseberries, stayed to fight the advancing army of appliances. It soon occurred to them however that they had no idea of how to fight them off, and standing perfectly still with clenched paws and bared teeth was likely to be as effective as a cocktail umbrella would be at keeping you dry in a hurricane.  
  
Or so they thought.  
  
The whisks were terrified by the weasel's threatening stances and ran back the way they came, which was from a small village in Germany, I'm not sure of any German village names however so you'll have to add one in yourself to get the most out of this chapter.  
  
Things weren't as good everywhere however. The Architect had summoned a massive flesh-eating pitchfork somewhere in Greenland, which was, rather conveniently, the same place where Neo and Trinity, (who had been risen from the dead shortly after Morpheus took up Necromancy,) were perched in a tree, staring at the passers by and wondering which ones to mug.  
  
There attention soon switched to the pitchfork, which swooped in with well-practiced grace and snatched a seemingly random person from the street before swallowing them in three gulps.   
  
Neo and Trinity donned their sunglasses and leapt to the floor so as to do battle with the beastly beast. Unfortunately for them however, it had decided to fly onwards towards more urban areas where more people would most likely be lurking.  
  
Since Neo had been forbidden from flying after he caused a pilot to think he was hallucinating one time and consequently cause a crash in which three people lost their front teeth, the two were forced to steal pogo sticks from a local toy shop, thus equipped, they set off pitchfork hunting,  
  
Had they simply walked they would have arrived three hours sooner, Neo kept falling off and Trinity insisted on stopping every seven odd meters so as to make sure the springy bit was still properly oiled.  
  
Eventually however, they fell upon the pitchfork that had taken a break from his carnivorous ways and was instead sitting outside Jarrolds, humming to himself.  
  
Deciding that killing the beast was now unnecessary, Neo and Trinity instead set off towards the Architect's secluded layer of doom so as to stop his drunken evil once and for all.  
  
This too proved to be unnecessary however, as Smith, who thanks to the Architect had found himself wearing a red dress that was two sizes too small for him, had promptly drove to the Architect's lair and put a bullet through his chin.  
  
Thus endeth the chapter.  
  
Right, now for replies:  
  
Nicole5: Even if you don't see it, you can still be disturbed by grotesque mental imagery, maybe. Anyway, thanks for reviewing.   
  
Naz: I moved the rubix cube from the bookshelf to the desk. That was several days ago however and now I haven't a clue where it is. What does 'rubix' mean anyway. To the dictionary with me. One moment, ah screw it I can't be bothered. Thanks for reviewing. By the way, is fwllbart the welsh word for polecats?  
  
Agent Josey: Sorry to hear about your recent vomiting. Get better with the greatest of speeds or I shall be forced to cut off my nose and throw it into a duck pond. Cutting off noses is a lot harder then most people think. Um, (looks around shiftily), or so I've heard. Yeah. Anyway, thanks for reviewing.  
  
Alocin: I hope this weasel filled chapter satisfies thee. Thanks for reviewing, damn it, where's that French snoopy book when I need it. Damn Flegg, how I hated it. Sorry, I'm drifting from the subject, again. Thanks for reviewing.   
  
Tai Wilson: Laziness eh? That happened to me yesterday. I would expand on that but there's nothing really to say. Oh well, avoid headaches if possible and remember as always the word sturgeon. It may save your life one day, or it may not. In either case, thanks for reviewing.  
  
Chinchilla-in-a-bowl: The last real maze I was in led to a huge wooden squirrel, I then fell down the stairs. It wasn't a fun experience, but now I can see perfectly out of my spine. Thanks for reviewing.   
  
Chi Muffins: No one seems to like Locke. Oh well, glad you enjoyed the majority of the story. I can't think of anything else to say so I shall re-write three random words of this reply.  
  
One  
  
Say  
  
Words  
  
Thanks for reviewing. 


	5. We do not need you! We will stop him!

Right, thanks to all reviewers once again, and contrary to tradition, I think I'll start with some replies.  
  
Naz: Like I said when I said that everything to be said had been said, I think that everything to be said with regards to what was said has been said. Anyway, thanks for reviewing. P.S. This wasn't the idea I mentioned.   
  
Tai Wilson: Alright. (Envision a long pause), sorry but that's all I can think of to say, again. This is what happens when you write short reviews. Oh well, thanks for reviewing.  
  
Agent Josie: I can't remember what you said. One moment. Ah yes. 'Ahem', glad to hear that you are no longer retching. Be forewarned, if you start again I may have to shoot your left ear. Thanks for reviewing.  
  
Donttredonme: I tried to review 'You're a mean one Mr. Smith' earlier, but the bastard college network filth flaunted me. In short, it was disturbingly funny. Thanks for reviewing.  
  
Lupe-3.14: It is indeed a disturbing image. *Shudder*, it could be worse I guess, it could the Architect in a dress. *Falls to the floor and starts rocking back and forth*. Um, yes, well anyway, thanks for reviewing.  
  
thereisnobrain: I don't care what the Microsoft spelling and grammar checker says, I'm not going to start your penname with a capital letter. To do so would be wrong. Anyway, thanks for reviewing.  
  
Agent Brown: I was wondering when you were going to show up. This story probably isn't the dictionary definition of a parody, it is however, as I said in an authors note, more or less, a bunch of random funny stuff which is intended to amuse. Also, I doubt that anyone with the power to sue me will read the disclaimer, and the foolishness of it helps to add to the random humorousness. As for accepting constructive criticism, I would go into a lengthy speech about the difference between constructive criticism and your reviews, but I've done that enough for one lifetime. And, judging by 2 fan fics, you seem to be insulting people less as of late.  
  
That's a long reply. Oh well.  
  
Funkless: Whisks are cowards at heart. Except for the metal ones, they're alright. Oh lord; I'm reminded of cooking lessons at high school. Stupid whisks, they spite me once again. Um, thanks for reviewing.   
  
Anyone else who I've forgotten: Sorry about that and thanks for reviewing.  
  
Right, now on to the next tale of foolery.  
  
Chapter 5: We do not need you! We will stop him!  
  
This my friends, is the tale of the machines disastrous attempts to destroy Smith while Neo was very slowly advancing upon Zero one with singed eyelids.  
  
Smith, at the time, had en-cloned the entire population of Canada, Luxembourg, three cities in Mexico and exactly 5/17ths of Australia. There seemed to be no end to his reckless cloning, until one of the Smith clones went nuts with excitement and tried to ram his fingers into a moving train. He never saw them again.  
  
Smith the first decided that this was an omen. His wave of bad luck with trains had skyrocketed over the last six months, especially when Mr. Anderson was involved. After word reached his ear of the train incident, all the clones were called to wherever the hell it was that the final fight scene in Revolutions took place. This in turn led to hours of dawdling and arguments because all the Smiths wanted to get the best view of the fight scene. Nine hours later when it seemed that all was coming together in some sort of order, rain broke out and all the Smiths found themselves fighting over who got to go inside.   
  
Elsewhere, Deus ex Machina had decided to use this moment of confusion to deal a deadly blow to the Smiths once and for all. Unfortunately, some pestiferous git had shoved a Weasel as a Christmas present to the beast. If anyone can't remember the effect that Weasels have on the large spiked machine then you should re-read chapter one.   
  
Consequently, Deus ex Machina was reduced to a gibbering creature that rolled here and there across the floors or Zero-One and tried to sing 'This year's most open heartbreak' by Funeral for a Friend. He sounded more like an electric toothbrush that had been rammed into a toaster.   
  
And so, the task of creating a program to defeat Smith was passed to B166ER's nephew, (that's right, his nephew!) Who was named Vincent.  
  
Unfortunately, Vincent's only role in life was to remove graffiti from various walls. Consequently, his skills at creating all powerful programs were close to zilch.   
  
Vincent's first creation was an unreasonably large human kidney, which was intended to distract the many Smiths whilst a second program, (a female with only one leg,) hopped up behind the Smiths and rendered them unconscious with a frying pan.  
  
To Vincent's credit, this worked for five Smiths, then a passing seagull informed the others of what was happening, the kidney was then shot to pieces and the woman was promptly turned into a copy, this copy was then found a space at the back somewhere.  
  
His second attempt involved creating a twenty foot tall Smith, armed with a ridiculously small croquet mallet. Unfortunately, the foolish machine forgot to program the colossal Smith to destroy his smaller brethren. Consequently, Vincent watched in horror as his second attempt to stop Smith casually strolled down the street. Unfortunately, due to shoddy road works in that area, the street weakened beneath the huge Smith and he soon fell into a large hole. So as to not let the hole inconvenience them in the future, the Smith's edged up the road roughly seventeen metres.  
  
Fortunately for the machines, the weasel was soon un-plugged, thereby concluding his Christmas present, (he wanted to meet Don S. Davis.) This resulted in Deus ex Machina being restored to his usual creepy self. Fortunately, he sent Vincent back to his glorified shoebox on the far side of the city and patched up the hole in the road. Thereby causing the Smiths to edge 17 meters back the way they came.  
  
He did contemplate the idea of creating thousands upon thousands of chestnuts which he could cast down upon the Smiths, however, it suddenly occurred to the writer that this chapter was becoming too similar to the last one for comfort. Hence he hastily decided to end it with the following paragraph.  
  
A passing seagull whispered to Deus ex Machina that Neo was approaching. The spiked machine then decided t hide, so as to create a dramatic entrance.   
  
Thus endeth the chapter.  
  
The next chapter will be different, trust me. 


	6. Terms of Peace

Thankings once more to all reviewing persons. Replies have been moved to their rightful place at the end of the chapter.  
  
Chapter 6: Terms of peace  
  
The following is an extract from a crude treaty that the machines cast upon humanity.  
  
If you wish to reclaim the bodies of the flesh covered diseases that rudely charged into the city without observing proper traffic protocols then you will be required to send 34 yen to us, as well as two suitable coffins for the return journey of the corpses. We will not accept two cardboard boxes that were previously used to hold refrigerators as appropriate coffins, nor will we accept the refrigerators themselves.  
  
If you do not wish to reclaim the bodies then we shall throw then through the hole we made in the roof of your dock. We do not want your deceased detritus.  
  
All humans that wish to be released from the Matrix shall be released regardless of whether or not there is a ship present to collect them. We shall not accept responsibility for any drownings or dysentery. It's not our fault if you are too inept to look after your own species.  
  
A humanoid machine known by the name of Vincent, as part of his punishment for humiliating us last week shall collect all the dead sentinels on the floors of Zion. If anyone tries to feed him they shall have their heads crushed to pulp for no apparent reason.  
  
Any human who plugs a weasel into the Matrix just to spite us shall face being forced to listen to Deus Ex Machina's singing. If they survive the experience then they shall be strangled to death by whichever weasel had been shoved in the Matrix.  
  
Zero-one may not be used as a tourist attraction so dispel any deluded daydreams of such an occurrence now.  
  
All un-plugged humans who are pissing about in the Matrix without a very good reason shall be shot in the teeth.  
  
Any un-plugged humans who piss whilst in the Matrix shall also be shot in the teeth. Keep in mind that whereas it may go in a toilet within the Matrix, it goes on your trousers in the Real World. Still, we do not consider urinating to be a good enough reason for being in the Matrix.  
  
The last remaining pineapple shall be handed over to humanity, as the machines have no use for the device. We strongly advise against eating it however.  
  
Anyone who tries to re-program a sentinel because they are too lazy to hang up Christmas tree lights themselves shall be given a £15 fine.  
  
Anyone who wishes to get shoved back into the Matrix must realise that we have more important things to do then ferry humans back and forth between Zion and a vacant pod.  
  
The democratic order of sewer-based weasels shall be given the remaining APUs, as that was what we promised them after the war was over. Unfortunately however, you're all still alive which made the situation somewhat complicated at first, then we realised that they don't work anyway. We are assuming however that by the time the weasels figure that out it'll be too late for them to do anything.  
  
The surviving sentinels and that ones that managed to avoid getting shoved into the firing line shall help to fix the holes in the ceiling of the dock in roughly nine weeks. You shall be required to supply ¾'s of these sentinels with stylish leather coats, preferably black, or failing that, top hats made out of stone. We're not running a charity here.  
  
One of the sentinels returned to Zero-One with a human head in its arm. If you wish for the head to be retuned then it will cost you a further 14 yen. If you do not wish for it to be returned then it shall be thrown into the sea and have a small cocktail umbrella inserted into one of the ears.  
  
If for some strange reason a meeting is wished. It shall take place within the Matrix in that fancy restaurant of the Merovingian's. He won't mind, he's getting his own radio show as part of the bargain.  
  
I would go on but I'm trying to keep all the chapters more or less the same length.  
  
Right, now for replies:  
  
Naz: If you want to know what an electric toothbrush rammed into a toaster sounds like. By the way, how the hell did you get cake in your eye?  
  
Agent Josie: Thanks for your suggestions, I shall consider them, inadvertently forget them and then spend the rest of the nigh watching Revolutions. HA! It is finally within my claws. 'Ahem', thanks for reviewing.  
  
Alocin: I'm glad to see you're a weasel fan. Anyone who isn't should be beaten over the head with at least three salmon.  
  
Tai Wilson: By the time you read this, the weekend and most probably the period of holiday based days shall be here. So in short, enjoy, and thanks for reviewing.  
  
Nithke: Hmm, its hard to think up a reply, consequently I shall take up as much space as I can writing about the fact that I can't think of a suitable reply. That's enough I think, thanks for reviewing.  
  
Don't tread on me: Annoyingly, your review isn't up yet and I inadvertently deleted the email. Oh well, I'm pretty sure I agree with you about whatever it was you said about Agent Brown, and thanks for reviewing.  
  
SeleneZana: There is no situation involving a croquet mallet that isn't funny. I would say more but I bought Revolutions today and I must charge to the VCR with the greatest of speed.  
  
thereisnobrain: I hope your walking in circles didn't result in the loss of eyes. Its more common then most people think. Anyway, thanks for reviewing.  
  
Lupe-3.14: Frying pans tend to be great crowd pleasers. ARGH! Infernal Microsoft spell checking machine. On second thought make that 'infernal keyboard. Where was I? Oh yes, thanks for reviewing.  
  
Anyone else who I've forgotten: Sorry about that and thanks for reviewing. 


	7. Agony Agent

Thankings to all reviewing persons. I've forgotten what everyone said however so I'll be back in a minute.  
  
That was a very stupid thing to say, oh well, replies are at the end of the chapter.  
  
Chapter 7: Agony Agent  
  
After the war, many of the Agents found themselves unemployed. This led to three suicides, Agent Jones joining the Yakuza, Agent Brown, (the real one), starting his own company, 'Nooses for all'. It failed miserably and now he spends his days giving inspirational speeches to rat catchers, and Agent Jackson, (after a long talk with the Architect and some editing), became a fox. He now spends his days thieving chickens from a farm in Cornwall. He still insists on wearing sunglasses however which makes him look ridiculous.  
  
Finally, there is Agent Johnson. He received a job with the Suffolk advertiser as an, (as the title says), agony agent. People would write to him with assorted problems and he would laugh with contempt before responding to his chosen favourites, examples of these include…  
  
Dear Johnson  
  
When my 15 year old son found out about the Matrix, he wanted to become like the 'Neo' person he read about in the newspaper. Unfortunately, this resulted in him gouging his own eyes out with a fork. Now he wails endlessly, is there any way to make his eyes grow back?  
  
Mr. Christopher Hawthorn  
  
Dear Mr. Hawthorn  
  
It is possible for the Matrix to be edited, we usually do this when faced with a massive system glitch or when we're trying to kill people. We do not however, edit the Matrix so as to care for the needs of idiots who blind themselves or their inept parents. Your son sounds more like a five year old, which raises serious questions about your parental abilities. I have a good mind to come to your house and rid the world of you and your son's idiocy, (and heads).  
  
Best wishes,  
  
Agent Johnson.  
  
**-*//-*-/*-+-/*-9-*/*/--*-//*/-*---*-*-  
  
Dear Johnson  
  
Everyone in the village keeps talking about Weasels who have been stealing sunglasses from the opticians. My husband has come to believe that this is the start of a terrifying Weasel uprising and has sealed himself in the loft. Do you know how I can get him to come down? and why in the world would Weasels want sunglasses?  
  
Mrs. Eliza Zephaniah  
  
Dear Mrs. Zephaniah  
  
The Democratic Order of Matrix based weasels are trying to collapse the 'world's' economy as retribution for the batch of dodgy APUs that we gave to their Real world brethren. They are also under the mistaken impression that Sunglasses can be used as tire traps, which is also part of their plan for vengeance. As for your husband, I'd advise storing as many sunglasses as possible in your loft. Sure enough, the weasels will come to your house in the thousands and the loft will be the last place your husband will want to be.  
  
Good Hunting,  
  
Agent Johnson  
  
*-*/*/*9+*/+--/+*/*++++/+++-+-/-*+++-*/  
  
Dear Johnson  
  
I tried to get un-plugged right, same as thousands of people, and do you know what those arseholes said to me? They said, 'Excuse me sir but this is the post office.' Fucking arseholes, they're just lying to get rid of me, they're probably jealous. I got even with them though; four gunshots through the window, you should have seen the looks on their faces, I hope cleaning all that glass off of the floor teaches them a lesson. Maybe next week when I go back they'll un-plug me without any excuses.   
  
Henry Kuzak   
  
Dear moron  
  
First, this is an advice column, not a place for idiots to tell their tales of vandalism. Secondly, if you do nothing else with your life, please take a gun to your head and splatter whatever it is in there that passes for a brain over the wall. Or if you prefer, I could do it for you.  
  
Agent Johnson  
  
*-*-**-*/-*--*-*/*/*/*-*-*//////////////////  
  
The stress of this job eventually got to Johnson; as a result, he took a three week holiday in Bradford and was attacked by a pigeon. Henry Kuzak was run over by a bus, and weasels' tire traps failed miserably.  
  
Thus endeth the chapter.  
  
Right, now for replies:  
  
Angel-of-lightness: There are some serious flaws with the Revolutions credits. Note to self: Respond to reviews in the same story as the replies are when, um, you know what I mean. Thanks for reviewing, Goodnight.  
  
Something occurred to me, (long dramatic pause), disturbing, that's all I'll say.  
  
Agent Josie: ARGH! It happened again. Oh well, since I hear from thee that revolutions is in your claws I shall say good for thee and thanks for reviewing.  
  
Funkless: I haven't thought that far ahead. I was originally going to have people call in and tell him their problems but I thought it would be better coming from an agent. Thanks for reviewing.  
  
Tai Wilson: 4.00 eh? How about that, there's a seven hour time difference. (I'm easily impressed), anyway, thanks for reviewing.   
  
thereisnobrain: You still have your eyes then I take it. That reminds me, I forgot to read your fic, sorry about that, I shall read it soon or fall over trying. Thanks for reviewing.  
  
Lupe-3.14: Inspiration usually springs to mind randomly, at random moments. There are no rodents involved. I hope you enjoyed your eggs. Thanks for reviewing.  
  
Emerald Eyes: It did make him a bit had to take seriously. All that potential for a fearisome, (yes I know that's not a word), wasted. Anyway, thanks for reviewing. 


	8. Some people shouldn't be magicians

Thanks once more to all reviewers; replies are at the end of the chapter.  
  
My incessant use of weasels may have scared some people off. Alas.  
  
Chapter 8: Some people just shouldn't be magicians  
  
As I told you in chapter 4 shortly after the introduction of the flying pitchfork, (which has now gone to Broadway if you're interested), anyway, Morpheus took up the ghastly art of Necromancy so as to bring Neo and Trinity back from the dead, this worked, but it was about the only thing that did.  
  
Morpheus first decided to try and resurrect the kid so as to work out any potential, metaphorical bugs. The kid wasn't so much resurrected as he was turned into a cactus. This cactus was later stolen by Zee and hidden on commander Locke's chair. It took him half a day to get all the bristles out of his arse, and he couldn't sit down again for a week. No one really cared.  
  
But I digress, after the successful resurrection of Neo and Trinity, Morpheus went on to experiment with forms of magic, his first idea was to make the gnarled, mouldy excuse for a pineapple that the machines had given humanity fresh and new in the hopes of growing many more pineapples.  
  
This all sounds well and good, unfortunately, Morpheus was too lazy to ask Councillor Hamann for some grey hairs, (an essential ingredient for a pineapple multiplication spell,) so instead took some grey steel shavings from one of the dead sentinels in the dock. Vincent, who was busy picking dead sentinels off of the floor stared at him for a few seconds but decided not to interfere.  
  
The result of Morpheus' laziness was fifty pineapple-sentinel hybrids that whizzed from here to there, decapitating and disembowelling as they went. Twelve people were killed before all the 'pineitels' were shot down. Morpheus was given a clip round the ear by both Niobe and the woman whose son was on the Gnosis, (she'd been doing that a lot in recent months).  
  
Morpheus still insisted on being a magician however, Link suggested that he emulate David Blaine and go without food for 40 days whilst sealed in a glass box. He said that a perk of this would be that the rest of Zion would be free of him for a month, and everyone would be much happier. Morpheus sniffed in irritation and broke Link's left leg with a crowbar.  
  
After a good night's sleep, Morpheus decided to try and rebuild the Nebuchadnezzar from the singed remnants that lay in anonymous tunnel somewhere underneath Munich.   
  
Morpheus was determined not to let laziness get in his way this time, which was largely irrelevant seeing as all the things he needed to throw into the cauldron he had made from 4 teeth and a chair were easy enough to obtain.  
  
The first item was three cubic millimetres of cotton, polyester or tweed. For this, Morpheus simply cut a three cubic millimetre square out of his trousers. This took him four hours, after he was finished; he decided to take a break for lunch.  
  
The second item was ice. (Don't ask me why, I'm just making this up as I go along), whereas most people would just freeze some water, Morpheus decided to try and condense water vapour in the air and then freeze that. The Bunsen burner he borrowed from Trinity was more rust then anything else however and promptly exploded, thus setting fire to Morpheus' domicile, thereby forcing him to cut another three cubic millimetre square out of his trousers.   
  
In the end his better judgement was overpowered by laziness and just threw some bile in.  
  
Big mistake, this resulted in a huge vomiting moth appearing in the dock and setting up residence there. This didn't make Vincent's job any easier seeing as the beast kept throwing him from one side of the dock to the other.   
  
Other then this however, the moth didn't really pose any threat to anyone so it was allowed to stay in the dock. It soon got bored however and left to seek a new home on the moon.  
  
Morpheus was forced to clean up all the vomit from the dock as punishment for his reckless ways with sorcery. Three 'runners' like the ones in that final Animatrix story, the name of which I've forgotten, arrived to give Vincent a hand cleaning up all the sentinels, and Link's leg healed nicely.  
  
***********************************************************  
  
I might make this the last story, its getting a bit repetitive and I'm running out of ideas. If I'm met with protests, I may continue. I doubt that'll happen however.  
  
Right, now for replying,  
  
Angel-of-lightness: A poor choice of words if the unthinkable has happened, anyway, I hope that a Flash program finds its way to your claws soon, and thanks for reviewing.  
  
Agent Josie: People stared at my sister when she started carrying an umbrella shaped like a bee around with her. I've found it's usually things like that and funny earphones that get stares. Anyway, thanks for reviewing.  
  
Tai Wilson: The Merovingian had to perish; maybe I should have had Wanderer go along with the assassination for a while before changing his mind and returning to decapitate the guy. Oh well, thanks for reviewing.  
  
thereisnobrain: The Microsoft spelling checkeriser has at last stopped questioning me. HA! Oh shit its back! Um anyway, thanks for reviewing. 


	9. The Trainman and the Weasel

Very well I shall cast forth another chapter. Replies are at the end of the chapter.  
  
Chapter 9: The Trainman and the weasel.  
  
The power of 'the One' extends beyond the mind and the hands. It goes all the way down to the upper legs as well.   
  
So, when young Gymnosperm who was mentioned in chapter one in case you've forgotten, was crushed via Neo's arse. His soul passed through Neo's head and was then somehow cast into the Matrix at a ludicrously high speed, where he is forced to live as a ghost.  
  
At first, he didn't care so much. He'd spend his days happily haunting people by flying through their bedroom windows with a daunting hiss in the dead of night. He gave this up when one too many a pestiferous person said 'awww'.   
  
So, Gymnosperm decided to become a driving instructor. Unfortunately, he was too short to see out of the windscreen. So, as frightened people screamed for instructions from the driver's seat, Gymnosperm could do nothing but cover his ears and start gnawing on his seatbelt which was becoming something of an obsessive compulsive disorder at the time.  
  
After three car wrecks, Gymnosperm and his employers mutually agreed that it wasn't the right profession for him.  
  
Things seemed bleak for the young, deceased weasel. There wasn't much available for weasels in terms of employment. The seagulls had the postal service covered, ptarmigan had all but taken over the farming industry, and Otters were the only non human beast that could become librarians, mostly because they were willing to work for one herring per day.  
  
A week after applying for the 'agent' job he'd read about on a café window, Gymnosperm took the subway from his home in Boston to, um, another part of Boston so as to pick up his dry cleaning. He was startled by sudden screaming and cries of:  
  
'Stop him, he stole my VCR.'  
  
Seconds later, Gymnosperm noticed a short looking guy with a moustache that resembled Salvador Dali's charging through the crowd with a wide grin and a VCR in his clutches. Gymnosperm rushed over to the guy, drew his 5mm long knife from his coat and buried it into the thief's leg.  
  
The man screamed, the VCR fell to the floor and shattered into five easily reparable pieces, and the Trainman (who owned the VCR stared in horror at the sight.)  
  
The injury the thief received was quite superficial. He was an attention seeker however and made an elaborate show of his injury, all the while threatening Gymnosperm with assorted legal terms that had no relevance to one another. The weasel sighed and stabbed him in the eye.  
  
The onlookers cheered and Gymnosperm was given a pat on the back by a pedestrian which almost sent him to the floor.  
  
The Trainman gathered the VCR remnants in his threadbare coat and adjusted them so that he wouldn't be attacked by jagged edges. He then fired three shots into the thief's head. The crowd screamed once more and there was mass hysteria in the subway.  
  
Gymnosperm was turned down for the Agent position as a key requirement was an ability to use a tricycle, unfortunately, Gymnosperm had an irrational fear of tricycles since the age of two when his brother named 'Dead man's fingers', ran over his hind legs with one of the aforementioned three wheeled devices.  
  
Fortunately, the Trainman, who felt indebted to Gymnosperm for allowing him to exact vengeance on the thief, offered him the job of stealing passengers wallets onboard trains during the rush-hour when people were less likely to notice.  
  
Gymnosperms first thought was 'How the hell did he get my phone number?' He then realised that there couldn't be that many Gymnosperms in the phone book. He then accepted the job and with the extra money was able to move to a bigger house in the centre of a non-descript park.  
  
He and the Trainman split the contents of the stolen wallets 75-25, with the money the Trainman got, he was able to afford a haircut and halfway decent dental surgery.  
  
The chapter has ended.  
  
Right, now for replies:  
  
Agent Josie: Your protests have en-screwed the review page. Well they haven't really I guess, it's just awkward. Oh well, that does indeed sound like a funny memory thanks for reviewing.  
  
Tai Wilson: I think this chapter shall be the deciding one. I shall continue or discontinue based on the feedback I get for it. I need to eat something. Oh well, enjoy life and thanks for reviewing.  
  
thereisnobrain: Are you still running or did you manage to disguise yourself as an owl and escape? In either case, thanks for reviewing.  
  
Ever in the shadows: Who exactly was it who told you about this? I am a nosey bastard and must know such things. Anyway, thanks for reviewing. 


	10. ARGH! WHERE ARE MY LIMBS?

And so we come at last to the end of the idiocy. I'd like now to thank all reviewing persons and some guy called MatrixMad who reviewed this on Agentshadow.hyperboards. Um, I can't actually remember what he website is. Shit. Anyway, thanks to you all.  
  
Anyways, replies are at the end of the chapter.  
  
Chapter 10: ARGH! WHERE ARE MY LIMBS!?  
  
Contrary to what many believe, Smith wasn't destroyed after his fancy fight scene in Revolutions. When he tried to turn Neo into a copy, Neo altered Smith's coding so as to restore the duplicates to normal, as you saw, and to turn the original Smith into a scarecrow. At the time it seemed like a good idea.  
  
The field in which he was placed was owned by a somewhat eccentric farmer known as Darrel C. Cummings. He was a little surprised to find a scarecrow lying face down in his field, wearing an expensive suit and calling him a virus.  
  
Cummings soon decided that Smith's presence was the result of cost cutting within the military. He decided to make use of the Smith-crow to scare off the many rooks that plagued him.  
  
And so the unfortunate former agent was condemned to three months of having a large metal pole up his arse, as well as having to endure arse bombings from many a winged beast. His menacing face did scare off many a rook however, which gave him a surprising sense of satisfaction.  
  
To amuse himself, Smith would occasionally use what dwindling 'opposite of the one' powers he had left to cause small fires. When Cummings discovered that it was Smith who kept setting fire to his breakfast of acorns and cardboard, he took him to the local library and threw him through an open window.  
  
This was a lucky occurrence for Smith (sort of), as one of the Librarians, (who was inspired by that episode of The Prisoner with the brain swappings and, you don't know what I'm talking about do you? Oh well.)  
  
Anyway, thanks to a series of carefully arranged, scientific devices, the librarian, who had in fact always wanted to be a scarecrow, switched bodies with Smith.   
  
Smith wasn't overly pleased with the exchange seeing as the Librarian in question didn't give him a choice in the matter, given the choice between being a scarecrow and being a human shaped biped, (otherwise known as a human), he would have chosen to be a scarecrow.  
  
After the brain switching procedure was completed, Smith decided to vent some anger by killing the Librarian/Scarecrow with a desert eagle which he found hidden in a curiously placed chandelier in back room. It soon occurred to him however that he now had no hope of returning to the scarecrow corpse that he had left.  
  
After a few seconds of searching for an adequately suave pair of sunglasses, Smith got bored and charged out of the door.   
  
Smith spent the rest of the day stealing cars so as to seek out the Architect, (whom he had shot just one week before), and beg for his old shell back. Unfortunately for him however, he kept running over tire traps fashioned from sharp pieces of wood and sunglasses, and being attacked by 'Mustela nivalises', which unless I've been lied to is the Latin name for weasels.  
  
Eventually Smith gave up and decided to take the train. During the journey, he was unfortunate enough to be seated next to some pestiferous man with bladder problems. The resulting urine seeped effortlessly through the surprisingly porous trousers that had once belonged to the Librarian before her untimely scarecrow related death.   
  
Smith was not amused.  
  
The man with the weak bladder was thrown out of the train as it was moving at 87 mph. He landed in a pool full of bizarre, multi coloured fish who stole his limbs via the use of large pointy teeth. Contrary to what the title says however, he didn't say 'ARGH! WHERE ARE MY LIMBS!? As the fall killed him.  
  
When Smith finally reached the lair of the Architect, he found the elderly program playing chess over the internet with some guy called Sven, who earlier that day had ridiculed his monotonous lifestyle. The Architect set the pitchfork on him, the pitchfork told him he was busy, and the Architect shrugged and got on with his life.  
  
His chin had still not recovered from Smith's shooting at it. (I realise now that I've just screwed up the chronological order of the whole story, oh well, who cares?) Anyway, the Architect's chin had not healed, and the bandage he had been given looked ridiculous to say the least, upon seeing Smith, he raised his arm in a daunting fashion, and altered Smith's coding so as to turn him into a reasonably harmless skin disease. After coming to terms with the fact that he no longer had any limbs, Smith went off and infected the people of, um, Boston. No offence intended to anyone from Boston, it was just the first thing that came to mind.  
  
The End.  
  
Right, now for replies.  
  
Angel-of-lightness: I know I said I'd do eleven but if I keep going on with these I'll wind up quoting from them, which will lead o me getting run over when someone rolls their eyes once too often and pushes me into the road. (I see now, *bows head in shame*) Thanks for reviewing.  
  
Tai Wilson: I think ten is a good number to end with for a parody, even if it isn't I'm still going to end here. Thanks for your reviewing ways. I would write more but I can't think of anything.  
  
thereisnobrain: I notice that one of your stories has vanished, is this Agent Brown's doing? In any case, thanks for reviewing. Laziness is unspeakably healthy. Thanks for reviewing.  
  
Dragonsquiirt: Oh, well thank you for recommending this work of foolery to others, I hope that you have enjoyed this work of oddness to the point where you felt inspired to randomly throw things in rivers. If not, thanks anyway.  
  
Aeyvi Allen Poe: Should I write one review or nine? I think I'll stick with one seeing as I am a lazy cretin. I'm glad you liked what you liked in here, I wasn't too pleased with chapter nine either but what's done is done. Thanks for reviewing this and the other one.  
  
Don't tread on me: Demented is I. I is demented. I shall have to find out who Andy Kaufman is, saying that I'll probably forget. Oh well, thanks for reviewing.  
  
I think that's everyone.   
  
Goodnight all. 


	11. The cautionary tale of the Merovingian

**I know I said I'd finished this but about two hours ago I had a flash of inspiration. Actually, that's a lie. I've been sitting in this chair for an uncomfortably long period of time trying to think up an idea.**

**(About four seconds later)**

**O.K that was also a lie. I haven't been here that long at all. Oh well, I think I have something now.**

**Replies are at the end of the chapter.**

**Chapter 11: The cautionary tale of the Merovingian**

As you undoubtedly remember, the Oracle version 5.0, or was it 6.0? Or 1.5? Ah who gives a toss? Anyway, she gave the following sentence during the Matrix Reloaded,

"What do all men with power want? More power."

These proved to be prophetic words. Cast your minds back to chapter 6 where I wrote of the Merovingian getting his own radio show, and for a time, it was good, sort of. For an hour every Wednesday he would listen to the problems of assorted people from Stuttgart and the surrounding area, and advise them about what they should do with the large spider that had taken over their basement, or why sending nude photographs of yourself to the local police station was a bad idea.

Unfortunately for the vast majority of the listeners, they knew only German and the Merovingian would always reply to their problems in French and promptly hang up before they could complain. For the odd caller who could speak French, he would alternate into Sanskrit. Whatever he did, he would usually laugh for a few seconds before continuing with the show.

This soon came to an end however when an angry listener with the unlikely name of Siegfried Cummings attacked the Merovingian with an umbrella. Cummings had not taken into account the thunderstorm overhead however and was burned like kindling when lightning stuck the umbrella that was raised over his head in a menacing fashion.

The Merovingian refused to be scared away from what he enjoyed by one umbrella-wielding malcontent however. It didn't much matter in the long run however, as the democratic order of matrix-based weasels had torched the radio station in just one of fifteen different terrorist attacks in Europe.

Excuse me a moment, I have to repeat the following phrase five times a day or I shall be marked as a traitor.

'Ahem'

LONG LIVE THE DIGITAL WEASELS AND THEIR RIGHTEOUS CAMPAIGN OF ANARCHY!

Right, where was I?

Ah yes, the Merovingian decided to extend his lanky arm of influence into the music industry. He summoned the twins from the library roof that they had landed on top off after Morpheus rudely incinerated their car; and set them to work fashioning Portable CD players made out of fingers and cardboard cut outs of um. Well, I'll let you decide. The choices are as follows.

1. George Takei

2. Amanda Tapping

3. Joanne Cheval, (Agent Josie)

4. Alexis Denisof

5. The crypt keeper

The next morning, the Merovingian's LSD trip wore off and he realised that the CD players that were being constructed probably weren't going to work. He also realised that it wasn't the twins he had sent to work, it was Stephen Fry and his brother's son's hairdresser's father's accountant. A woman named Valerie.

Both people were offered simply apologies and sent on their way.

The Merovingian soon decided to take a more practical approach to forcing his way into the music industry. (Sort of.) His idea was to take five hundred and nine of his trusty minions and march upon the local electrical good stores with flaming torch and pitchfork in hand.

Chaos ensued. Many of the minions simply detached from the main group and went on a binge of wanton destruction around wherever the hell they were, and for the most part ended up falling into a ditch and trying to dig their way out.

The twins, the real ones this time, decided to take advantage of the situation. Ever since the Merovingian had made fun of their decision to take evening classes in prosthetic limb maintenance, they had been looking for a way to exact revenge. Now at last, in the midst of the chaotic street scene, they had their chance.

They shot him.

Kind of disappointing really I guess. Oh well, the moral of this story is that you shouldn't ware bright colourful clothes during a riot. (The Merovingian was wearing a bright pink scarf.)

* * *

**Thus endeth this tale**

**Something of a short one I know, don't worry, there's more to come.**

**Right, now for replies.**

**Aeyvi Allen Poe: Remind me to re-read the large number of emails you sent. I've forgotten most of what was there. Oh well, from what I remember there was talk of a website. Hence I shall say good luck website wise and thanks for reviewing.**

**Thereisnobrain: That also reminds me, I have to read your Cypher fic. I'll do that either tonight or tomorrow. Right now I have to catch a bus. Oh well, thanks for reviewing this and Causes come and go.**


End file.
